


Scrabble

by romanoff



Series: Blue Lips, Blue Veins [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Disassociation, Dreams, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shmoop, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:17:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2668373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanoff/pseuds/romanoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little thing that takes place between chapters 87 and 91 of 'Blue Lips, Blue Veins'</p><p>Tony finds himself on the roof of Stark tower. He's sleepy; he can't find his shoes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scrabble

**Author's Note:**

> just a little thing, really. I have loads of these, packed away on my computer. Some Steve/Tony stuff, some Ty/Tony stuff, some Natasha & Tony stuff, some one-shots from Natasha's perspective. Yeah. Obviously I have too much free time.
> 
> Warning's for mild disassociation and confusion that comes with heavy sedatives. Tony has no suicidal thoughts in this, he just happens to be on the roof, but if could possibly be viewed that way. If heights are a thing, maybe best not to read.

For three days, Tony had not slept.

Coming up to the fourth night, he finds himself on the roof.

Eh. Things get hazy. What with the meds, and the... attention span (or lack of it). He'll get there eventually, he's sure. He vaguely remembers registering the want to get some air. And since he doesn't leave the tower anymore, here he is.

All of New York, stretched out below him. Buildings, rising up beside him. 

He swallows, stumbles slightly on the pebbled ground. It hurts his feet. They're bare.

He must have forgotten his shoes.

He shifts closer to the edge, looks down. It's a long, long drop. It makes him shiver, so he steps back. He wouldn't want to fall, not at all. That is, that is the opposite of what he wants to do.

He's so tired.

Maybe he stands there for a while, because when he blinks back to himself, the sun is starting to set. It's cold, or colder. Cold enough that it can't be felt through his sweat, through the baggy cashmere sweater that he's tugged down over his hands, gripping it tight.

His head feels --

It's hard to think. That's the meds. That's, the doctor said, they'll make him tired. Just for a while. Just enough to keep him sane. When he's feeling better, the doctor said, his moods will stabilise. But now, he needs something very strong to keep him okay. Tony's not stupid, although the doctor had said it all in a very slow voice, pointing at the packet to get him to focus. They're keeping him heavily sedated until he stops doing stupid things, like screaming at his board of directors.

Or climbing out onto the roof with bare feet. Why is he out here, exactly?

Right. He hadn't slept. He hadn't slept in a loooong time, and the pills aren't working. So he came here -- 

Nightmare. He'd had a nightmare. It's all coming back to him now. Micro-sleep, and then he'd been sure that the Chitauri were walking through his tower, with their clicking tongues and, and pincers. God, pincers. Tony shudders. He doesn't want to think about it.

He'd come up here because from here he can see where the leviathan spun through the sky. He can almost see it, in his minds-eye. Almost too clearly, the drugs telling him it might actually be real.

He frowns, knocks his fist into his head, as if banging his brain right. He blinks blearily. No leviathan. Not today.

He blinks up at the sky. It had been blue, when Tony went up. Blue, with a hole, dark and inky and empty. Now, it's a muted gold, with pink clouds. That's funny. Maybe he's not seeing right.

God, he's tired. But if he sleeps, he'll see it all in it's technicolor glory. 

There's panic there, under the surface. Just tangible, as his meds start to wear off. He could go get more. But he doesn't want to disrupt this. And he wants to think clearly. 

He stumbles back until his spine hits the concrete of the wall. For a moment, he thinks he's over-keeled, and he slips back, head hanging out over empty space. But then gravity does it's thing and he re-aligns, shaking, until he slides down to his knees on the ground, the stones digging into his flesh.

It's cold, so he wraps his arms around his knees, rocks, slightly, to keep warm. Why doesn't he go back in? He's so tired. He can't, really.

It's okay, he reckons. Jarvis will know where he is, so if anyone comes looking, they'll find him. Down here, in this corner, he can't even see New York. He keeps his head buried between his knees and curls closer. Shh, he tells himself, shh. It's alright. It'll be alright.

Someone will come get him, he thinks. His feet are cold, so someone will definitely come get him. "Jarvis?" He slurs. "Jarvis, I'm up here."

No one replies so Tony sighs, and snuggles down best he can, backed against the warming concrete. It's not that cold, really. And he can't see any Chitauri. If something happens, someone will find him. Everything is A-ok.

Tony's felt like this before. All... not himself. When he thought he could get the board to take him back by shouting at them. He had felt like this then. It's not a nice way to be. He slides further down until he's lying on his belly, curled against the wall. He blinks, and runs stones through his fingers, listens to the chinking noise.

He yawns. Tired. Tired, tired, tired. He needs to snooze. And when he sleeps Jarvis will tell everyone he's up here and they'll pick him up and take him to bed.

Poor Steve. Steve is just cleaning up after all of Tony's messes recently. He deserves better than Tony. He deserves, Tony, better than.

"Jarvis?" He says again. "Can you take me home?"

There's no reply, and the wind picks up slightly. It's chilly enough that Tony kinda wants to go back inside.

"Jarvis." He slurs again "Take me home. Can I get off the roof now?"

Everything is very slow, and very... hard to think. Tony blinks, and stretches out his hand. "Jarvis," he mutters at the butler, walking towards him. "Jarvis I don't feel well."

He sighs. "Tony, it's cold out here. You need to wrap up warm."

"If I put on shoes can I stay?" Tony blinks, and yawns.

Jarvis is gone. Tony frowns. That's strange, that's --

Oh. Dreaming. He opens his eyes, and the sky is darkening. Micro-sleep, a sleep that is micros. Micro meaning small, and --

He should sleep. His eyelids flutter. Sleeping on the roof isn't great, but it's not bad. No one can really get at him, and no one's found him yet. It's like hide and seek, except he's the only one playing, and everyone else are unwilling participants.

No one ever wants to play Tony's games. Like, the engineering ones, or the board games, he really loves scrabble, and, and no one ever wants to play it with him. He never had enough friends and he asked Rhodey this one time but he gave him a strange look so he had to pretend to be drunk. Dad never played the games with him. Ty would, sometimes. Like they would be astronauts or pirates and Whit would be the mermaid.

Jarvis played with him, always. Always always always. And Tony --

 

"Tony," someone's saying "Tony."

A hand on his shoulder, gently shaking. He jerks. "Whas'," he mumbles "whas' you."

"It's me." The voice says, hushed. "It's Steve."

"Oh," Tony mumbles, groggy. "Steve."

"Yeah, Tony." He says quietly. "What are you doing up here, you're frozen."

"Hide and seek."

"Okay," Steve says slowly, and the he sighs. "Okay. I think that's enough for today. C'mon, I brought a blanket."

"Did Jarvis find me?" Tony asks, words mashing together.

"You deactivated Jarvis, Tony."

"Did I?"

"You're very clever when you want to be. Up, come on. Hold on, that's it."

"I saw, I saw a leviathan." 

"Did you?"

"S'was big." Tony gestures with his hands. "M' not lying."

"Sure you're not." Steve says warmly. "Careful on the the ground, you're not wearing shoes. Why are you not wearing shoes?"

Tony hums. Points. "That's the wormhole."

"Not anymore, Tony." Steve says quietly.

That's when Tony remembers. "Wormhole," he says "I wanted to make sure the wormhole wasn't there."

"You should have just asked."

"Didn't want to bother you."

Steve pauses. "You have a strange sense of priorities, Tony."

Tony frowns, and rubs his nose. "Ah, damn." He says. "My head hurts."

"Yeah well that's what happens when you lie on the roof for five hours."

"Time?"

"Nearly ten."

"Sorry."

"No worries. There's some soup downstairs that I want you to eat, and then you can go to bed."

"C-can't."

"Tony," Steve says. "Remember what the therapist said."

Tony exhales, slowly. "Can't sleep." He repeats, properly. "I can't, not tonight."

"You have pills -- "

"No more pills." Tony says, as Steve leads him to the elevator, the warmth of the building. The strength in his voice surprises him. "I can sleep on my own."

Tony knows Steve is making a face. Steve. Steve makes faces, and that's --

He's so, so tired.

Tony swallows. "Sorry." He says.

"Nothing to apologise for."

"C, c-can I sleep on the c-couch?"

Tony can tell Steve is mildly disapproving. "If you promise to actually sleep."

"Sure." Tony slurs as they move down. "Promise."

"Okay." Steve says quietly. "Here."

He helps him out onto the main floor. It's lit in nice low lights which is very cozy. Tony can smell soup. Natasha is reading on the couch.

"The wanderer returns." She says with a small smile.

Tony frowns. "I was s'on the roof."

"So I heard. Come," she says, patting the couch seat. "Sit."

Things zone in and out. He eats the soup, maybe, but everything's slowed down times ten. When he blinks, everything seems to change. One minute, Steve is sitting in the armchair, the next he's crouched in front of him.

"I hear you," Steve says in a low voice "we won't leave you tonight."

Tony doesn't remember saying that, which is a good thing, because he hates asking them to stay. It's weak and pathetic and wrong. He can look after himself. He can. He fucking can.

"Put your head down." Natasha says, and Tony doesn't understand. But Steve puts a pillow on Natasha's lap and settles him down.

"Huh?" He mutters, groggy. "Sorry."

"Why are you apologising?"

Tony is too exhausted to even articulate.

Natasha's hand plays lazily in his hair. "Sleep."

**Author's Note:**

> *whispers loudly* shmoooooop
> 
> Comments are GREATLY APPRECIATED and if you have any questions or prompts find me on MY NEW writing blog [romanoff](http://writingromanoff.tumblr.com/)


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